The Fabric of Life (In Honor of Dad)
The hand stitched quilt lay delicately over dad. With dignity it covered as the street lights added yet another layer of reflective peace surrounding the situation. What was the situation? Dad passed. It was 10:50 in the dark of night—when the lights shone down upon the sacred quiet on May 24, 2023.
Part of this small town’s tradition was to blanket those who died—with reverence—in hand stitched coverings fashioned by the church ladies. As he was placed within the vehicle which had arrived to carry him on this next leg of his journey, he wore well the quilted covering.
Once within the vehicle, the quilt was removed. The hands dad had once held through the years—now held tight to the edge of the fabric. Each member present took hold to fold just so—so it could now be brought back into the building and placed atop the bed where he’d slept for the past six months. There it would remain for a while—so those who had cared for him could take pause and remember dad.
“I know your needs before you ask,” says Matt. 6:8. The ones who had stitched the cloth not only knew what would be needed, but responded through faith in action.
When the Chaplain arrived, he spoke life into those who remained. Would you like to know what was spoken in the quiet of the silent night? I will tell you in a minute, but first, let me explain. I was not there. Listening in was the gift given through a phone connecting our worlds long distance. In the sacred moments somewhere between dusk and dawn the Chaplain spoke.
“The Apostle Paul said, ‘To be absent in the body is to be present with the Lord—at home’ (2 Cor. 5:8). We are nothing but broken pots. We cannot live forever because our bodies won’t let us nor were they meant to. Thus, he took his last breath here and his next breath in heaven.”
The following words made their mark. “Before he was ever ours— he was His. We give him back to the Lord.” I’d never thought of it like that. I’ve thought of my children being gifted for only a season upon this earth, but never did I think of dad in this way. My mindset shifted as I thought about the truth revealed in these words. “Before he was ours—he was His.”
Then, there was this gem. “The man wasn’t perfect—but his life was a blessing.” Not sure anyone believes they are capable of perfection, but the Chaplain wasn’t suggesting that. What he was saying was that in our imperfection, He still uses us in ways which bring blessings to others when we so much as glance in His direction. I wonder if dad knew he was a blessing. He knew he had shortcomings and would readily admit that. I suspect if he did know he was a blessing, he wouldn’t have wanted to talk much about because he never liked to direct too much attention to himself. That’s what I loved about dad. He was always interested in the other. And if he was a blessing to others, he most certainly saw it in a way that made the others seem more like a blessing to him.
The Chaplain ended by referencing the book of Timothy and what Paul, the Apostle, focused on at the end of his life. What did he focus on when passing from this world to the next? He focused on three things and mentioned that we, like Paul, could gain by doing likewise.
1. Fight the good fight. 2. Finish the race. 3. Keep the faith. (1Tim. 4:7) How that looks in each of our lives will be different, but one thing remains the same. We are all cut from the same cloth—His. It says so in Genesis, “God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him” (Gen. 1:27).
I thank God He created church ladies in His image who keep the faith by covering others with the sacred fabric of life for such a time as this. Amen.
